


Rosemary and Thyme

by WyckedStarr



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Originally written in 2013, but edited in 2020, but mature seemed misleading, i am confused, probably on the high end of the teen rating, there isn't a fandom tag just for skyfall?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:02:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26142298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WyckedStarr/pseuds/WyckedStarr
Summary: There were a lot of things broken at Skyfall that Q wasn't able to fix, and one thing that maybe, with patience, perseverance, and some elbow grease, he could.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Comments: 2
Kudos: 80





	Rosemary and Thyme

**Author's Note:**

> The downside of editing things is removing what could have been hilarious typos.  
> One such typo in this particular story was instead of *stepping* I had *steeping* which I thought was both amusing and appropriate  
> I'm fairly certain this fic was originally written in 2013 and seven years later, I finally got around to editing and posting it. Also I did zero research for any of the car stuff beyond what was already in my notes.

Q poured over the records of the Qs who came before him, searching for one specific design. The design that went with the few pieces of classic old car he had managed to salvage from the wreckage of Skyfall. Bond had loved that old car and of all the things that had been broken at Skyfall, it was the only one that Q might be able to fix. He wasn’t entirely certain whether it would be a good idea to restore the car, but part of him couldn’t help but think of it as a piece of Q branch history that deserved to be preserved.

Having found the design, Q heaved a sigh. As if getting parts for an Aston Martin D85 wouldn’t be hard enough, a lot of this equipment was not in production anymore. A significant amount of it didn’t even have a modern equivalent.

He took a sip from his scrabble mug, wrinkling his nose at the cold tea and thought about his options. The simplest option: just restore the car, don’t include any of the gadgets the old Q had decided to incorporate. The much more complex option: restore the car, including the gadgets, making the parts that no longer existed from scratch.

It wasn’t a hard decision to make. What’s the point of doing something if you’re not going to do it correctly? Good thing he was starting early, it meant he would have plenty of time to work on it.

He slid the car designs into his bag and got to his feet, locking the door to the archives behind him. On his way home, he detoured by the workshop he rented (under a false identity, protected by layers of obscurity) to drop off the papers. The last thing he wanted was for James to find them and spoil the surprise.

When Q slid open the door of his home, deactivating all the alarms, he was greeted by an incredible smell. Bond didn’t cook often, but when he did, it was always fantastic. He would never tell Q where he had learned to cook and it didn’t really seem appropriate to push for an answer.

The kitchen was empty when Q walked in, a pot of something bubbling away on the stove. He tensed, waiting for the inevitable. That didn’t stop him from jumping in surprise as strong arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him close against a muscular chest.

“Bloody hell, Bond!” Q yelped, turning in his arms. “Must you keep surprising me like that?”

“Yes,” Bond said with a smirk. He tightened his arms around Q, sliding one hand under the other man’s shirt. “You stayed late tonight.”

“Had to finish up a project,” Q muttered, reaching up to tangle his hands in Bond’s hair.

James lifted Q up, devouring his mouth. He sat him down on the countertop, wedging his body in between Q’s legs.

The quartermaster grinned against Bond’s lips, wrapping his legs around his muscular waist. Hands slid under jackets, struggling to strip each other out of their clothes. Q had just managed to remove James from his suit jacket when the kitchen timer went off, beeping obnoxiously. He groaned, pressing his forehead against James’.

“Food, then sex?” MI6’s youngest quartermaster in history muttered, breath warm against Bond’s skin.

007 laughed, stepping away from Q, letting him slide off the counter to his feet, and pulled two large bowls out of the cupboard, ladling in the thick soup. Knowing his agent, Q grabbed the oven mitts and opened the oven door, pulling out a loaf of crusty bread. Grabbing a bread board and knife, he sat down across from James, cutting him a hunk of bread.

Q bent over the chassis of the Aston Martin, head buried deep in its guts, installing one of the gadgets he had had custom manufactured by Q branch. The custom bits and pieces he needed for the car were actually turning out to be the easiest things to get his hands on, because he could have them manufactured in-house. He couldn’t have them manufacture car parts though (well, he could, but someone might question the expense) so he was having trouble finding the parts to repair the car itself.

He had scoured the internet, searching for the parts he needed, eventually finding an old car yard in America that had most of the parts he needed. The question was just if they would arrive in time and whether he’d be able to find the last few remaining parts.

Many times throughout the project, Q was thankful that his father had a fondness for cars and had been determined to teach Q everything he knew about them, back when he still had a name other than Q. He’d hated it back then, never wanting to leave his room and computer(s), but now he was thankful that he knew the difference between a spark plug and a carburettor.

It would probably be a few more weeks before he could get his hands on the last items he needed, which meant everything was running to schedule and he would have the car ready in time, providing that nothing went wrong at MI6.

Of course, something came up at work. Bond had been sent on an assignment to Japan and they had been getting interference on his tracker and comms. The higher ups had decided that his skills were needed to work out what was going on.

Q took a sip from his mug and got to work.

Hours later, Q pillowed his head on his arms and sighed, trembling slightly with fatigue and annoyance. He had fixed the interference and gotten Bond’s tracker up and running again, only to discover that Bond had ditched it at the start of his mission. Never mind, Q could find him without it.

“Q, M would like to see you,” Moneypenny said from the doorway.

“Sir?” Q asked as soon as the door to M’s office closed.

“Go home Q.” M said, getting to his feet.

“Excuse me, Sir?”

“You were on holiday Q. You’re still on holiday, you shouldn’t have been called in for something as mundane as tracker interference. Besides, Bond is a big boy, he can take care of himself. If he couldn’t, he wouldn’t be a double O.”

Q began to argue, but M held up a hand, stopping him before he could begin. “We both know you are just as capable of tracking 007 from home as you are from here. Do us all a favour and don’t. Or at least get some sleep before starting. James won’t appreciate you burning yourself out looking for him.” M said gently.

Q nodded and left the room, stopping briefly to gather his bag and pick up the parcel that had just been delivered for him.

It was so tempting to set up his gear in the study, but instead he left his tings just inside the door and went to his workshop and its deceptively comfortable couch.

He threw himself into repairing the car, travelling to collect what parts he needed, rather than waiting for them to be sent to him. The only exception were the parts that had to come from America. Those, he still had to wait for, and they were holding up the rest of the project! He couldn’t do any further work until those parts arrived.

Q took to stalking around the house, testing non-dangerous prototypes and working on the projects his underlings sent to keep him entertained in between hunting Bond, waiting for parts to be delivered and theoretically being on holiday.

Finally, the last parcel he was waiting for arrived and he could finish off the car at last. Q bolted the last piece into place and wiped the grease off his hands. Time to see if he’d done everything right and take it for a test drive. To get a proper sense of things, Q drove out of London, away from the hideous traffic. He didn’t plan a route, didn’t decide to go anywhere in particular, just drove and let the roads take him where they would. He ended up at Skyfall, parked in front of the driveway, staring across at the wreckage where 007’s childhood home used to be.

He knew that Bond would eventually re-surface. After all, resurrection was his hobby and one he was exceptionally good at. Bond would get in contact with him when he wanted to, he could make his own way home, without Q’s help.

Eventually though, he had to head home. Back in the workshop, he sat in the car and considered whether it was worth it to go back to the house, when the workshop couch was right there, and so comfortable.

Bright light shone through Q’s eyelids, waking him. He blinked sleepily, even as he reached under the blanket for the weapon he had hidden.

“Relax Q, it’s just me.” A familiar voice rang through the morning air. Always one for dramatic entrances, James stepped forward, emerging out of the brightness. “So, this is what you’ve been working on,” James said fondly, running one hand over the smooth exterior of the car, eyes soft.

“You have good timing,” Q muttered, rubbing the grit from his eyes. “Happy Anniversary, James.”

007 crossed the workshop in a few long strides, pulling Q into his arms. “Happy Anniversary,” James whispered, leaning down to brush his lips gently against Q’s.

Q wrapped his arms around James’ neck, sinking into his hold.

“I brought you a present from Japan,” James muttered against his mouth.

“Is it your gear back in one piece?” Q snarked, knowing full well it wasn’t.

James laughed deeply, sweeping Q into his arms, and moving towards the restored car. “It’s good to be home.”

_Fin_

**Author's Note:**

> In my original notes from when I first wrote this, I mentioned that I had been watching too many american shows and was losing my british english, I have no idea if that's still something we care about in fandom circles but I did make a few adjustments to hopefully be more in keeping with british english rather than my weird australian mixed with whatever I'm currently watching english (the week when I was watching Schitt's Creek really did a number on me, let me tell you that)


End file.
